A World Beyond Main Street
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [ German Bros. Oneshot ] Ludwig looked over his shoulder, back to Gilbert, and then leaned slightly out of the window. "What are you doing here?" / "We're going to find Dad!"


The gutter groaned under Gilbert's weight.

Well, it wasn't the actual gutter, Gilbert thought, digging his nails into the metal. It was that part of the gutter that dripped down the side of the house, bringing the water from the roof to the ground. That Gilbert was attempting to climb.

"Oh, fuck," Gilbert breathed.

The whole thing gave a jolt. Gilbert released it, trying to twist, but he still slammed down on the ground. The wind rushed out of his lungs.

He lay in the grass, attempting to suck in air, writhing, back arched.

It was called a fucking downspout. Gilbert blinked the tears out of his eyes.

Plan B was pebble. Except there weren't any pebbles, so Gilbert ended up throwing his sneaker at the window.

"Ludwig!" Gilbert hopped over to his shoe and threw it again. "Damn it, Ludwig!" Gilbert whisper-yelled.

The light flicked on, and Gilbert stood crouched, ready to run if it was the wrong room.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert waved, grin so wide it hurt his face. "Hey!"

Ludwig looked over his shoulder, back to Gilbert, and then leaned slightly out of the window. "What are you doing here?"

"We're going to find Dad!"

Gilbert couldn't see Ludwig's face in the dark, and he didn't say anything, either. Maybe he didn't want to find Dad. Maybe he was happy with his new family.

"Hey!" Gilbert gestured vaguely at Ludwig in the window. "Get dressed! We have to get far enough away so they won't find us in the morning. Dress warm, wear sneakers. Ludwig, come on!"

"Hold on." Ludwig shut the window.

Gilbert blew into his hands. Fuck, fuck. Ludwig was waking up his fosters. Or calling the fucking cops. He was taking too long—Gilbert had brought enough clothes for the both of them, but had he told Ludwig that? Shit.

Finally, there the front door opened, and Gilbert grabbed the backpack and darted over. Ludwig had an oversized coat, sneakers that were probably too small.

Gilbert pulled him into a hug.

"Fuck, I missed you."

Ludwig squeezed him. The squirt must have grown three inches since Gilbert had last seen him. "I missed you."

Gilbert laughed, wet, nearly crying. "I missed you, too." Gilbert held Ludwig at arm's length. "We're going to find Dad. Come on. I'll tell you more once we get away from this fucking prison."

Gilbert shrugged his pack further onto his shoulders, and they set off. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, all things considered. There were trees, at least, some grass here and there. Ludwig's fosters even had a yard. Lucky fuck.

"We have to cut through a bad part of town," Gilbert said, lowly. "So keep your head down, hands in your pockets."

"Where are we going?"

"We have to get out of the city."

Ludwig's eyes widened. He grabbed Gilbert's arm. "We can't leave the city."

"Why the fuck not?" Gilbert pulled away and kept walking, gesturing. "Come on. It's already later than I would have liked."

Ludwig walked at his heel. "Gilbert, what are we doing?"

"I already told you." Gilbert said, voice louder, cracking in the middle. "Come on."

Thankfully, Ludwig fell into step. Gilbert's heart pounded in his ears at every person passing them on the sidewalk. The knife in his pocket felt very heavy, and he gripped it, but it didn't make him feel any better. Just like he was a kid.

It took two hours of Gilbert frantically checking his watch to finally hit the suburbs. But even then, Gilbert couldn't shake the weight off his shoulders.

Ludwig broke. "Gilbert, where are we going?"

Gilbert looked around, chewing his lip. "Alright." He smiled. "Alright." He unzipped his backpack and grabbed the road map. "See this?" He pointed at the route, highlighted in red marker. "This is the way to Dad's house."

Ludwig looked at the map, eyebrows furrowed. "Gilbert—"

"Look, all we have to do is, like, thirty-five miles. That's nothing, especially if we're walking all morning. No one's going to expect us to go west. And I brought food and—"

"Gilbert, he doesn't want us."

Gilbert looked up at him. "Don't say that."

Ludwig's eyes were round, and he was worrying his lip. "He gave us up."

"No, our _mother_ gave us up," Gilbert snapped. "She left _him_. He probably doesn't even know she—what happened to us. Our last name? Not many people have it. This had to be the guy."

Ludwig looked at the map again.

"Come on, Ludwig," Gilbert said, leaning closer, grinning. "Can you imagine? No more fucking foster houses, no more different schools. We can _live_ together!"

"Alright."

"You mean _fuck yes_!"

Ludwig's mouth twitched into a smile.

Gilbert grinned back, then flipped up both their hoods up. Gilbert walked quickly, mouthing street names to himself. He had studied the route a thousand times. A thousand times. He knew the way.

First it was the fathers leaving for work, headlights in the early morning mist. Then the school buses, clean of graffiti, of thirteen-year-olds smoking dope and cigarettes. Then squealing children being wrangled into car seats.

Gilbert clenched his fists at the unfairness of it all.

It was good they were both tall for their ages; had Ludwig been shorter, some concerned mother might have stopped and asked them where they were going. But they walked by houses with lawns and trees and golden retrievers without so much as a passing glance.

Ludwig wasn't next to him.

Gilbert whirled around, but Ludwig was only a few feet behind.

"Shortstop, what're…" Gilbert saw the park, the swing-sets and slides.

Ludwig's attention snapped back to Gilbert. "Sorry," he said.

Gilbert checked his watch. They had been walking for over four hours, almost five. "Fuck it, do you want to swing?"

Gilbert marched over and threw his backpack on the ground, collapsing onto the swing gratefully. It was the most comfortable seat he had ever felt.

Ludwig swung next to him.

Gilbert jumped up and ran behind Ludwig, giving him a huge push. Ludwig let out a squawk, legs kicking wildly. Gilbert gave him another great shove, whooping. A laugh ripped from Ludwig's throat, childish and light, and Gilbert cheered.

Ludwig dug his heels into the dirt when Gilbert moved away, stopping himself. He smiled, cheeks red, hair a mess, eyes bright. "I'm hungry."

"Same. Come on." Gilbert stood and continued to walk, digging through his backpack. "Here, Poptart. I have plenty, and I have cash, so we can get pizza or burgers or something later. But right now we have to keep walking."

"Thank you."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "No problem, your majesty."

At twelve, Gilbert's feet began to blister.

At one, he took them off, walking on the asphalt in thin socks. He gave his shoes to Ludwig. They wore the same size; Gilbert was four years older.

At two-thirty, Gilbert's socks had to be replaced.

The houses grew further and further apart. It was mainly a few scattered trees, shrubbery. It was flatter than Gilbert had seen in a long time, the land stretching towards the horizon, with just gentle dips and hills. It grew flatter all the while.

It must have been fields out here, but now it was just plots of weeds. Houses were boarded up, windows, doors. The graffiti had reappeared, but instead of stray dogs, Gilbert swore he saw rabbits skipping away from them.

Gilbert's heart stopped when he heard sirens.

He grabbed Ludwig, looking around, and dragged him off the road. He kept Ludwig's head down and walked fast, leading them toward what looked like a barn.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Gilbert hissed, voice hoarse. "How did they find us, fuck, fuck."

He practically threw Ludwig into the barn, dragging the doors shut behind them. He held his ear to the door, holding his breath.

"Did you tell anybody?" Gilbert hissed. "Did you? _Ludwig_!"

Ludwig sat in a pile of hay and rat droppings. "I left a note," he whispered. "I just told them not to worry."

"Fuck," Gilbert said, dragging the word out.

Gilbert checked his watch. Four p.m.—so twelve hours. Would they really be after them that fast? There's no way.

The sirens neared. Gilbert felt nauseous. Felt the knife in his pocket. He wanted to cry. The noise was on top of them, in Gilbert's head, his mouth. And then…

"I think it's going," Ludwig whispered.

Gilbert slumped against the door. "Thank God."

The barn must have been used for shelter before. There were beer cans and cigarette butts. Gilbert walked around, checking for hobos. The arches of his feet burned; his heel sent shooting pain up the back of his foot. It didn't take long for him to collapse at Ludwig's side.

Ludwig's head kept dipping down, then snapping upright.

"We walked like twenty miles," Gilbert said, sitting up. He grabbed his backpack, offering it to Ludwig. "Here, eat as much as you need to, I have plenty."

Ludwig devoured the four Poptarts, a bag of chips, three apples, and three water bottles Gilbert had brought. Gilbert ate a bag of chips himself.

Gilbert leaned against the barn doors, head resting back, utterly exhausted. If anyone tried to come in, they'd have to knock him over first. Ludwig laid down, his back to Gilbert. The setting sun set his hair aflame, a halo around his head, the dust motes holy angels.

"Gilbert?"

"Fuck—" Gilbert kicked out, jolting upright. It was night now—the barn utterly dark. "Is everything okay?"

"Do you remember what Dad was like?"

Gilbert blinked, swallowed. He could feel the dust and hay coating his tongue. "Sort of. Well… I… just have… this one memory of him."

Ludwig shifted in the dark.

Gilbert let his head rest back. "I was so little, you know. I don't remember our house or… anything. But I think he…" Gilbert licked his lips. His back was sore, his feet were sore, he was starving. His neck was stiff. "He had just come home from work."

Gilbert closed his eyes. "He came home and lifted me into the air. I had run towards him. Put me on his shoulders. I remember laughing and…" He rubbed his fingers together. "Touching. His hair."

"Was he tall?"

Gilbert smiled. "Yeah. He was."

"Do… Do you remember Mom?"

The smile disappeared. "No. I don't. I don't want to, either. Neither should you."

Silence.

Gilbert cracked his neck. "Ludwig, why did you leave a note? They wouldn't have suspected anything. Is that why you took so long?"

Ludwig didn't answer for a long while. "I… I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do."

"They're only housing you for money, you know," Gilbert said stiffly.

"I know."

Gilbert checked his watch, lighting it up.

"Gilbert?"

"We have to leave in two hours, go back to bed."

Ludwig must have rolled over towards him, because his voice was louder. "I didn't know there were places without so many houses."

"What?"

"Like… There aren't any houses out here. Just giant yards. It's nice."

Gilbert laughed. "They're fields. For farms and stuff. Have you really never been out here? It's not far."

"No, none of my fosters ever brought me."

"You never just tried to run away?"

"No!" Ludwig sounded offended by the very idea.

Gilbert let his head flop back again. "Go back to bed. Love you."

"Love you."

The sun doesn't rise at four in the morning. This was the second morning Gilbert was glumly reminded of this fact when his watch buzzed him awake. It was cold, and for a long few minutes, Gilbert was sure his toes had frostbite. But after he put on the remaining pairs of socks on his feet, they warmed up enough for him to move around.

He ran water over his hands and face and changed clothes. He had Ludwig do the same, listening to the dribble of water on the barn floor.

"Why do I have to change clothes?" Ludwig whispered. "The ones I'm wearing are warmer."

"In case anyone saw us yesterday. This way, no one can identify us because of our clothes. Come on," Gilbert said, blindly handing Ludwig articles of clothing. "I want to get out there walking."

Gilbert squished his feet into Ludwig's old shoes, finding them to fit surprisingly well. They both ate an apple each as they walked, and shared the remaining bag of chips. Gilbert wanted to hold off on the last water bottle, but decided against it when Ludwig descended into a coughing fit.

"Next gas station we see, I promise," Gilbert said, "we'll get some real food."

They walked for two hours, and when the sun finally showed where they were, it was nowhere. The land spread out from either side of them to the horizon, where Gilbert thought he saw a cornfield. Clouds gathered there, trapped over the farm. For now, it was a pale lavender morning.

Other roads occasionally cut through the street they were walking on. They, too, stretched forward into the sky.

At seven, a building appeared on the horizon.

At seven-thirty, they reached the gas station. It was a twenty-four hour deal, and Gilbert purchased the old pizza from the night before and water. With the last of his money, he got Ludwig a Twinkie. They ate the pizza as they walked, grease dripping down their fingers.

"Did you get napkins?" Ludwig asked, flicking his hand.

"Nah, sorry."

The clouds finally reached them at eight-thirty. It made Gilbert strangely claustrophobic, without that endless sky.

"The air is cleaner out here," Ludwig said.

Gilbert jumped. He looked over his shoulder. Ludwig stared around, blue eyes wide. He kept swiveling his head around in giant circles, fascinated. Gilbert faced forward, feet throbbing, neck still stiff.

"It doesn't smell like cigarettes," Gilbert said. "Maybe we could just live out here. In that barn. We could start a farm. Make our own bread."

"I'd like that."

Gilbert looked over and grinned.

They came to an intersection with a lonely light directing no cars. Gilbert checked the map, just to be sure. Rain came down in fat _pat_ s on his head, the street.

Gilbert pointed. "Right, we take a left here, and Dad lives on this street."

Ludwig looked down the street, standing on the tips of his toes. "We're going to live out here?"

"I guess so," Gilbert said, putting the map away. "That's pretty rad. Come on, almost there, and then we can have a real meal and a shower."

Ludwig smiled.

The rain poured. Gilbert couldn't see ten feet in front of him. It was colder now, Gilbert's teeth chattering. Ludwig was slowing down, and he had another coughing fit, hands on his knees. Gilbert flipped his backpack to his front.

"Come on, get on my back, I'll carry you."

Ludwig blushed. "No, I can walk. I'm fine. The faster we walk, the sooner we can get out of the rain, and I'm just going to slow you down."

Gilbert bit his lip. Looked around at the puddles collecting in the ditches at the side of the road. Flipped his backpack around. "Alright."

The house was… smaller than Gilbert had imagined. He hadn't even realized it _was_ a house until Ludwig stopped and looked at him, eyes wide. Gilbert had hoped for one of the suburb houses, something big with an SUV in front, a wreath on the door. This house was… small and squat, white, peeling paint.

Gilbert squinted through the rain. "That's our house number."

It was stupid for him to have expected anything different.

Gilbert walked to the front door, Ludwig holding his hand. They looked at each other. Gilbert squeezed Ludwig's hand. Then, he let go and knocked on the door.

The sound was very small in the rain.

A man with long, blond hair opened the door. "Can I help you?"

Gilbert couldn't speak. His throat closed on him, and his eyes grew hot and itchy. He took a shuddering breath. But still—

"Dad?" Ludwig said.

The man blinked at them. Their father. Gilbert's father.

"Dad?" Gilbert rasped. "It's us. It's Gilbert. And he's—he's Ludwig."

"Ah," their father said. "Boys."

Gilbert let out a sob, and Ludwig rushed forward, hugging his father.

Their father froze, arms raised in the air, looking down at Ludwig hugging him. Then, slowly, he reached down and patted Ludwig's back.

Gilbert couldn't move.

"Come in, out of the rain. I've just finished making breakfast," their father said, loudly, too loud. "Are you boys—"

"Yes," Gilbert croaked, "starving."

Their father served them cold scrambled eggs and bacon on paper plates. It was the best food Gilbert had ever eaten. They sat in silence, eating, staring at their father, who sat stiffly in front of them, reading a newspaper.

 **…**

Gilbert launched himself towards his father, but was slammed against the table. He snarled, kicking back against the police officer, tears and snot blurring his vision.

"You _fucker_!" he screamed, trying to scratch at the hands holding him down. "You _mother_ fucker! We're your kids!"

The officer handcuffed Gilbert, the metal cold, cold.

"I'm your _kid_! Don't you _want_ me!?" Gilbert was hauled backwards, to his feet, but they wouldn't support his weight, he couldn't walk, he couldn't— "We walked for _miles_!" he sobbed as he was dragged through the living room.

"Please, Dad, _please_!"

Ludwig stood by the cruiser, eyes wide, staring at Gilbert. Gilbert felt the strength leave him, felt shame and embarrassment seep through him. Felt his cheek burn from where his father had slapped him.

Ludwig didn't look as Gilbert was put into the cruiser.

* * *

 **Anonymous said:** I wish you would write a fic where Prussia and someone who isn't Canada or Austria or Hungary or any of Prussia's more popular ships were on a world wide journey as humans and something bad happens

 **So I chose Prussia and his brother.**


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